


The Past is a Different Country

by Robin_P



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Gen, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-25 03:36:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12027279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robin_P/pseuds/Robin_P
Summary: Some things can't be changed, but when your Uncle is the richest Duck in the world and has a treasure trove of magical items, how hard can it be to change the past?





	1. The Paparazzi Attack

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be an emotional rollercoaster.

Dewey made his glaceless way downstairs, bouncing off a wall as he followed the smells and sounds of breakfast. 

He entered the dinning room and was immediately sure Louie was up to something.

If bumping into a wall hadn't woken him up, he was now.

"Good Morning" he sang out cheerfully. Scrooge smiled at him and gave him a nod, uncle Donald waved but didn't look up, Huey's and Webby's greetings was just as cheerful and Louie grinned.

Not his usual smirk, but a grin. There was an air of affected innocence surrounding him and as Dewey studied his brother he became sure Louie feeling rather pleased with himself.

Louie was definitely up to something.

Dewey gave Huey a questioning look, who gave him a clueless smile, then Donald, who was half heartedly making notes and referring to his phone, Webby who was talking at Huey, then finally to Scrooge, who seemed to already be halfway through the Duckburg Times.

Alright. No one else had noticed Louie was up to something. Time to distract.

Dewey served himself some porridge, upending the pot of honey, sneaking glances at his Uncles. Huey gave him a look, his eyes rolling upwards, before pushing a large glass of milk towards Dewey. Webby gave him an amused look, and she paused in her tale, perhaps sensing the mood in the room had shifted.

Dewey grinned at them he set the now empty honey pot down, and glanced at Louie. Louie considered him, and pushed the peanut butter his way.

"Dewey. Fruit." Uncle Donald directed, waving his pen towards the bowl of fruit.

"Peanut butter counts." Dewey waved his spoon.

"Peanut butter? On porridge?" Uncle Scrooge pulled a face, putting aside his newspaper "Really lad?"

"It's good." Dewey through a sticky mouthful.

"It's disguising." Webby exclaimed.

"What do you like Uncle Scrooge?" Huey piped up.

"Salt. Or a little cheese." Uncle Scrooge declared.

"Eww!" Dewey pulled a face, as Louie dropped out of sight.

"Sweets are all well and good, in their place" Scrooge began a lecture.

"It's breakfast!" Dewey interrupted. "It's meant to be sweet!"

"And that will hardly going to carry you through the day lad!" Scrooge rose from his chair.

"Dewey!" Dewey stood on the chair so Scrooge couldn't loom over him. "My name is DEWEY!" No one else seemed notice the door opening.

Scrooge paused. "Dewey." He conceded, face pulling tight, "I didnae mean..." He paused again.

"Dewey. Fruit." Donald said, glaring at Scrooge. "And sit down. Both of you."

Distraction successful. Dewey grabbed some blueberries and kept his head down, grinning into his porridge.

Louie had better share.

\---  
Louie ducked out of the dinning room, tucking his hands in his pocket, tugging at the plastic envelope hidden there.

He needed somewhere private to hide and well lit enough to read. The mansion had more than enough of the first, but the second was harder, what with most of the unused rooms being shut up.

But Louie has planned ahead, scouted the lay of the land, finding an unused bedroom with a window seat. He settles in behind the curtains certain that no one is going to find him. (Except Webby but she's wouldn't be looking for him for a while)

Huey would cut it open, Dewey would tear into the envelope, Louie traces along the seams and pulls it apart where it's weakest.

His heart is beating a little fast, but his hands are steady as he turns the glossy magazine over. He's on the front cover.

"What is it like like living with the Richest Duck in the world? An exclusive interview with Louie Duck, nephew of the renowned Scrooge McDuck."

Louie grins. It's a good photo. But did Fergus keep his word?

He opens up the magazine, checking the contents. And pales.

'The mysterious disappearance of Della Duck.'  
'The most likely heir to the McDuck Fortune'  
'Donald Duck, respected war hero or lunatic?'

It goes on and on, Louie shakes as he turns the pages, it's his family, he recognises names and pictures. He doesn't know these stories. His stomach twists and he wants to throw up.

How much did uncle Donald hide from them? Why do strangers know more about his family than he ever did?

Water drips onto to page as he opens the article on his Mom, the writing is too blurry to read. There's a picture of his Mom climbing into a small aircraft.

He can't.

This is bad. This is wrong. He made a mistake. He didn't know they were going to do this.

He can't breathe. The room is too dusty.

He wants Uncle Donald.

\---

Huey was totally up for a day entertaining himself. He had plans. Louie had vanished, and Dewey had grabbed Webby for more exploring. There's pieces of his model aircraft scattered all over his desk and he's carefully checking he hasn't lost anything in the move to his new bedroom when something breaks his concentration.

He tilts his head and listens.

Someone's crying.

Oh. Oh no. His heart sinks. He was really looking forward to working on his model. He hopes Dewey and Webby haven't gotten into something dangerous. (Again)

He sighs, knowing he's not going to rest until he finds the source, and drops the pieces he's holding back into the box.

It's louder outside his room, and coming from above, so he silently makes his way to the staircase.

He doesn't have to go far.

Louie's curled in a ball, arms wrapped around his knees. He's sobbing and Huey settles down next to him. Louie tries to talk, but nothing is coming out.

Huey rubs his back and waits for Louie to calm down enough to speak.

Instead, a crumpled magazine is shoved at him.

"Mom?" Huey stuttered, his heart clenching, clinging to Louie as he reads the article.

It's horrible. There's dozens of digs against Uncle Donald and Scrooge. It's a full out attack on their family. Huey is shaking.

He growls, and for a moment all he wants to do is tear the horrible magazine to pieces and set them on fire.

"We're telling Uncle Donald" Huey declares, dragging his brother to his feet and half carrying him down the stairs. It's a good thing Louie's his height because he's barely able to support himself, they're both shaking so hard.

\---  
Donald thinks he's having a good day. His CV has gone off to a dozen different job adverts, and he's already had a response from two, one asking for references and another asking if he's available for a phone interview.

Uncle Scrooge almost apologised. (He's getting better at it.) And Mrs Beakley is having a day off, so Donald gets to cook lunch and dinner today.

He's anticipating the look on his Uncle's face.

Then he hears it.

"Uncle Donald!" Huey sounds strident, his voice wavering.

The hob goes off. The lid is placed on the sauce pan. He's pretty confident he'll be able to salvage it.

His boys need him.

They look a mess, Louie is pale and clinging to Huey, half hiding behind his brother, his breathing coming in shaky gulps, Huey is shaking, his hands clenching around the lump of glossy paper in his hand.

"What's wrong? Where's Dewey?"

"They printed trash about Mom!" Huey wails, shaking the paper, a magazine Donald realises, catching sight of a familiar photo.

There's a chill seeping into his bones, his hear shutters and everything goes grey and muted. He can barely understand what Huey is saying, and Louie is just repeating I'm sorry again and again.

They hurt his boys.

\---

Scrooge is interrupted from his research by the familiar sound of a McDuck (or in this case a Duck) losing his temper.

"By Dismal Downs, what now?" He utters, deciding to investigate before Donald broke anything and give his nephew a good shaking if need be.

What he sees is unforgivable, the lads look terrified, and he yanks his nephew up. "Look at them" He hisses.

"Uncle Scrooge, it's not Donald's fault." Huey pipes up, there's a thunderous expression on the lad's face, the first warning sign that Huey is on the verge of displaying his own version of the McDuck temper. He holds something out, and Scrooge drops Donald to take it.

Smoothing out the much crumpled paper he immediately sees the problem. "I'll handle this" Scrooge growls.

"No." Huey said, folding his arms "First, I want to know what really happened when Mom disappeared. Not the lies they printed"

"Agreed" Dewey said, dropping down from his perch in the rafters, Webby just behind him.

Scrooge glances at Donald. It's his decision.

"Alright." Donald slumped, defeat written across every feather. "Alright boys."

"You didnae need to lad." Uncle Scrooge accent thickened.

Donald gave him a look. "They deserve to know."

"I was there too you know." Scrooge presses, but there's an undercurrent of uncertainty in his voice.

Donald looks at him, and for once there's none of the barely hidden resentment in his gaze, only grief deeper than the marine trench and their shared burden of guilt.

The silence between is heavy, and the kids inch closer to each other. Louie's tears have dried, he's starring at the floor and leaning on Huey. Huey has a protective arm around Louie, but his eyes are stormy, Dewey's landed on Louie's other side just in front of his brothers and is bouncing from foot to foot, and Webby is watching with wide eyes, her hand twisted in Dewey's tee. They can't help the undercurrent of excitement and dread rolling off of them.

Until Donald speaks.

"Can you tell it Uncle Scrooge?" Donald's voice is flat, a little bit angry, but mostly hurt.

Scrooge flinched back from the open disdain.

"I can try." Scrooge comes back with, the closest he can admit to that he's as unready to face this memory as Donald. His hands tighten on his cane, recognizing that this could be the start of an old argument, one he's not sure either of them will walk away unharmed from.

"Alright." Donald looked away.

"Alright" Scrooge echoes, not sure he's heard right. "Into the study with you lads, I'll put the tea on."

"Webby too." Dewey says, clutching her arm.

Scrooge nods. "I shalt tell this tale again."

 


	2. Story Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Losing Della.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I warned of the emotional rollercoaster?

Huey, Dewey, Louie and Webby huddle together on the sofa. Louie is hugging a pillow, tracing the embroidery. Dewey is watching Uncle Donald, he's standing by the window, back towards them. Huey is watching Uncle Scrooge fuss with the tea set. Webby keeps sneaking looks at the brothers.

The silence is heavy, despite the clink of china. 

Scrooge pours the tea, and the Huey is surprised when he remembers to drop a pair of sugar lumps in Dewey's cup, and extra milk in Huey's. He remembered. Huey's not sure how he feels about that. But the tea is warm in his hands.

Uncle Donald takes his like he's surprised Scrooge remembered him. Then gazes into the cup. A deep breathe, and something that is almost a smile.

"That's Aunt Matty's tea set" Donald says in surprise, then turns the cup in his hands, "I thought Gladstone got it."

"Who's Aunt Matty?" Huey pipes up, interested despite himself. Louie digs his elbow into his side, and Huey glares.

Scrooge raises an eyebrow at Donald, who shrugs over his tea, not meeting Scrooge's gaze.

"Matilda was your Great Aunt. My sister. She had a hand in raising your mother, until she and your Uncle decided they would rather run away to join the circus."

"Thunderbirds." Donald objected, "We planned to join the Thunderbirds."

The triplets shared a confused look. Webby pumps her fist. "I knew it!"

"Like the cartoon?" Dewey asked.

Webby twists round to stare at him in disbelief as Donald facepalmed. 

"They're like the best pilots ever! They do these amazing shows, I keep asking Grammy to take me…"

Scrooge shook his head. "I'm surprised you didn't go last year, when they came to Duckburg."

The boys turned hurt looks towards Donald.

"We were busy." Donald said, gazing into his tea and hunching his shoulders.

Scrooge sighed and set down his own cup. "Well. Maybe that is a story for another day." Scrooge glanced at Donald, "Where do you want me to start?"

"Itacoatiara." Donald threw out.

"Alright. Now…"

___

Adventure is never as much fun on your own. Your mother had initially cried off, handing it over to me when she realized her research into the Spear of Selene would require a lot more groundwork than she was willing to put in with you three on your way.

I too had set it aside, but as I was in Brazil for business I thought while I was there I would tracked down the last known person to see the ruins we thought held the Spear. 

The locals considered him a crazy old drunk, but he was quite happy to talk about his glory days to someone willing to hear him out. He would not diverge the location, but there was enough clues in his drunken rambling I was sure I could find my way, with some work.

Hot on the trail of the Spear, I realized I would need to charter a course down the Amazon, and the first name to pop to my mind was Donald.

I sent word to your Uncle that I was in need of a sailor, and to meet me in Itacoatiara. While I knew Donald was staying with Della I hardly expected your Mother to come along, yet there she was. 

___

At this Scrooge glanced to Donald. "You never told me how she knew?"

Donald smiled and shook his head. "Your office sent an intern, the poor guy was so terrified of meeting me, he screamed the message at the top of his lungs, and fainted. Della interrogated the poor fellow and declared she would fly me down."

"Interrogated?" Louie whispered, as he shared a grin with Dewey and Webby. The cushion had migrated to Huey, who was frowning and fidgeting between them.

"Fainted?" Scrooge grinned, "really now?"

Donald rolled his eyes, "On my doorstep. I had to grab him before he toppled off the plank."

"That boy…" Scrooge shook his head, 'I can't imagine what I was thinking when I hired him."

" _Please!_ Can do get on with the story!" Dewey demanded, climbing up on the arm of the sofa "I want to hear about Mom not some random nobody!"

Both Donald and Scrooge stilled, as if suddenly reminded why they were there. They shared a look as their easy comradity fell away.

"Della flew us down." Donald said flatly, "The three of you loved flying. We had a stow away. That random nobody. Della agreed he could come along as long as he helped keep an eye on her boys"

Dewey sunk back down into the sofa. Webby reached out a pulled him in for a hug, Huey knocked the cushion over his head and Louie glared at him with narrowed eyes.

"Aye. I suppose he was a helpful little fellow. Not much older than you four." Scrooge sighed. 

"What was his name?" Huey asked.

"You know, I don't quite remember?" Scrooge answered, starring off into the distance.

"Della called him Imp." Donald said slowly. 

"Right." Scrooge seemed to shake off the memory. "On with the story."

_____

As I said, I wasn't expecting for Della to join us, but once she was there I could hardly say no. Lord knows she would have probably have set out by herself. At least, that's what I told myself.

Maybe she would have. She was so excited to have you three, I can't imagine what she would have done had we insisted she take you home. You were only a few months old.

But I didn't really try. I knew how much your mother loved adventures, how much work she had put into this one. I couldn't send her home.

I had already acquired a boat when they arrived. More people than I expected, but I knew we were likely to be diving for the treasure, so more hands were welcomed.

There were the usual dangers, snakes, a few pirates, a jealous rival. Nothing we couldn't handle. I think we had more trouble with the trio of curious hatchlings.

Donald spotted the first landmark, and we dove headfirst into the adventure, Della and Donald dashing about like they had never been on an adventure before.

____

"Babies and adventures don't mix." Donald glared, "and if you had been paying attention, you would have noticed Huey climbing into Della's plane."

"He was fine." Scrooge said, gesturing to the kids.

Huey ducked his head, as his brothers grinned at him.

"Dewey almost went overboard, Huey was missing until we found him curled up in the pilot's chair, and Louie was screaming because you didn't want to let him play with a dime." Donald listed.

Now all three of them were blushing, and Webby grabbed her beak as she tried not to laugh.

"Well. It was my dime." Scrooge defended himself.

Disbelief and amusement from the peanut gallery.

"Children and adventures don't mix." Donald repeated, folding his arms.

Dewey put his hands together, mumbling to the ceiling. Huey facepalmed. Louie slumped, and Webby clutched Dewey's arm.

"Alright, but they're old enough now. I'm not going to put them in any danger."

Sighs. Of disappointment.

"We'll see."

Dewey went to cheer, only to find Huey and Webby holding his beak shut. Dewey pouted. 

"And on with the story." Scrooge declared, adjusting his hat.

____

I had forgotten I had fond memories of that trip. Before it all went wrong.

I wasn't quite prepared to deal with the complications of having children with us, but that was why we brought Imp along.

I suppose it was like a family vacation. I know we lingered longer than any of us intended. Still, we eventually arrived at the temple.

An Earthquake had shifted the entrance underground, and most of the building with it. Imp discovered a way in, we told him to stay with you three on the boat, and Donald took point as the three of us entered.

A few snakes, a scorpion, a dozen death traps that were all half broken but still quite deadly, and an old fool collapsing the ceiling on our heads.

Luckily, when the ceiling collapsed, it opened up the treasure room.

The earthquake must have done a lot of damage, the room was already half flooded and the water level was rising.

I spotted the Spear of Selene. Or what I thought was the Spear. Donald and Della were already climbing when I grabbed it.

I set off another trap. Donald was thrown into the water as the trap sprung to life.

___

"Greedy old man" Donald grumbled.

Scrooge paused and winced. "Aye, I got too excited, it drove the sense right out of my head."

"Grammy said I would be safe with you." Webby said, looking like her world was ending. Huey leaned over Dewey to pat her hand.

Scrooge couldn't bear to look at them, choosing instead to pace back and forth. "Well, I learned. Some things are more important than treasure. I took my eye off the real prize. I don't think I really believed anything could go wrong, until it did."

Donald snorted, "What could go wrong? We had Uncle Scrooge. It wasn't like the danger was real." 

Dewey shifted uneasily, glancing to his brothers. Louie had retrieved the cushion and was hugging it again. Huey's eyes were shadowed and his grip on Webby's hand tightened.. They could guess what was coming next. 

Scrooge started to pace, "So as I tried to reach Donald, I heard Della yell. I look up, and there it is. The real Spear of Selene. And Della was climbing down to rescue Donald."

"And you." Donald stated.

Scrooge waved him off, "I was fine. I had you. I yelled at Della to grab the spear..."

The kids held their breath.

"I pulled you into the water. It was still rising, and the room was falling apart." Donald said, he wasn't really seeing them anymore. 

Louie was shaking again, and Huey pulled him half onto his lap, Dewey sniffling and struggling not to cry. Webby couldn't take her eyes off of Scrooge and Donald as they paced back and forth.

"The Spear fell. I think Della grabbed it. There was a flash of light..." Scrooge stopped and rubbed his head. "Next thing I know, I'm waking up on the boat."

"You knocked your head." Donald said, hands twisting his shirt. "I pulled us both out. I searched. I dug for hours. She was gone." Donald bowed his head, his shirt wet from tears.

"The boys were wailing, Imp had vanished somewhere. I couldn't get them to stop. I left the boat, and Donald was sinking, already half buried in the mud."

"I couldn't get to her." Donald said, rubbing his hands "I tried. I had to try."

"We both tried. We searched for weeks. Our supplies started to run out." Scrooge said.

"The boys started to get sick" Donald said, "I couldn't lose them too." 

"So we left." Scrooge said, like it was the worse decision he ever made.

"We left her." Donald repeated, hands scrunching his shirt again.

"She was gone." Scrooge tried, looking at Donald. Reaching for his nephew. 

Donald ducked out of reach. "We left her." He screamed, balling up his fists. 

"Yes." Scrooge said, collapsing in on himself at the rejection and turning away. "We left her." And walked away.

Donald growled, and stormed out the other door.

The four kids sat in silence for a moment.

"I guess Mom is really gone." Dewey said, breaking the tense silence and rubbing his eyes.

"I guess." Huey echoed.


	3. Nightmares

The world blurred into indistinct shapes as Dewey dived forward. "Huey!" Falling he was falling, water surged around them. Red slipped through his hands.

It was quiet. He was alone. 

"You should have saved him." 

"Louie?"

"Why didn't you save him?"

"I couldn't, there wasn't time." Dewey scrambled to his feet, reaching for the Green blur that was his brother. He sank deeper into the mud.

"You didn't even try!" Louie accused, the words echoing as he faded away. 

"No! Louie!" Dewey struggled after him, but the mud wouldn't let him go. Green slipped through his fingers.

Dewey collapsed to the ground and wailed.

Startling awake. Shaking and not knowing where he was. Too dark, too still, alone alone alone.

His pillow was wet. Rubbing his eyes Dewey rolled out of the too soft, too big bed, falling to the floor as it didn't shift beneath his feet. Plush carpet met his hands.

Mansion. Uncle Scrooge. Not the house boat. He had his own room.

Huey. Louie.

He crawled to the door, pulling himself up by the handle. The corridor was dark and full of shadows. For a moment he hesitated, trying to remember which room was Huey's. Everything looked different in the dark. The city lights didn't reach this far.

He trailed one hand lightly along the wall, the other reaching out in front of him.

He still clanged into the set of armour outside Huey's door.

He jumped back from the chilly metal, shivering as he grasped the door handle and slipping inside his brother's room.

He still can't relax. "Huey?" Barely a whisper. He's breathing too loud to hear anything, his heart thundering is his ears.

But there's a pair of bright eyes watching him, and his brother shuffles over on his bed and lifts the covers.

Dewey gratefully dives in, snuggling into the very real warmth. Huey's here. Huey's fine.

"Bad dream?" Huey asks.

"I was alone." Dewey whispers. 

Huey shifts and wraps an arm around Dewey. "Really bad dream." Huey mutters, already sinking back to sleep.

"Do you think Uncle Donald..." the words stick in his throat.

Huey's grip tightens. "He has us."

"I know but…"

The door opens again, and a shadow sneaks in. "Budge over." Louie says, the bed shifting and creaking as he climbs in. "Why are we in Huey's bed?"

Huey groans. 

"I lost Huey. There was mud. You left me. I was alone." Dewey recited, shaking as the horror of the dream chilled his bones. "I was alone." Dewey repeated softly.

Louie gulped. "No. No. You're not… we're not…"

Huey grumbled. "We're not going anywhere."

"Mom's gone." Dewey said, and his brothers tensed.

"We have Uncle Donald." Louie said ever so softly. 

"Yeah." Dewey agreed, but didn't relax. "He lost his sister. His twin." 

"Dewey…" Huey tried, still mostly asleep.

"I don't know what I would do if I lost you guys."

"Something stupid no doubt." Huey huffed. "Can't we just sleep?"

Louie hummed his agreement, but kept talking. "Bucket list. If I died, I want you guys to do everything on my Bucket list for me."

"No." Huey growled, now fully awake and annoyed, "don't be stupid. You live the best lives you can, and I'll be waiting for you to catch up. And I had better be waiting for decades, right?"

"I don't want you to go." Dewey said.

"Then grab that stupid time machine and stop it donut." Louie sniped.

"Time machine?" Huey and Dewey exclaimed.

"We could save Mom." Dewey whispered.

Huey groaned. "Can't it wait until morning? It's a time machine."

Dewey grinned. "We're going to save Mom."

"This is a terrible idea." Louie declared, "I'm in."

_____

Huey was grumpy. Breakfast had been a nervous affair. Uncle Scrooge's chair had remained empty. Uncle Donald kept staring at it and muttering. Dewey had barely been able to remain seated long enough to eat, and Louie had just poked at his breakfast, barely eating. Even Webby was subdued.

"I'm going to talk to him." Donald decided, glancing at the kids. Then looking again. He hesitated. "I'm sorry." It didn't seem enough.

"It's not your fault Uncle Donald." Huey said, trying to ignore the burning in his eyes and the lump in his throat, he hadn't slept well, that was all.

Dewey pushed back his chair. "Can we go?" He asked.

It was only because Huey was watching that he caught the hurt that flashed across Donald's face, it was hidden so fast that Huey wasn't sure he saw it.

Huey glanced to Louie, hoping and half pleading that Louie would know what to say. Louie was tense, still staring into his porridge.

"Maybe we can have a quiet day?" Webby suggested, "movies and ice cream?"

"Yeah…" Louie said. "Movies sound good."

"Uncle Donald?" Huey asked. 

Donald nodded slowly, "I'll be back soon, we'll get out the boardgames and make a day of it?"

Huey tried to smile back, but he wasn't sure he succeeded.

He heard the scape of a chair moving, as Louie darted under the table to fling himself at Uncle Donald.

Huey's sight blurred, uncle Donald looked so shocked. It made Huey's chest hurt, and he found himself moving to join the hug without thinking.

Uncle Donald was safe, warm, and solid in a way the thoughts of his mother never were. Huey felt the pain in his chest fade. 

They were going to be okay.

Dewey's tears were getting his shirt wet, Louie was squeezing so tight he trembled, Webby was sniffling. But it was okay. It was going to be okay.

Huey was sure of It

\----

Webby isn't sure. She feels like she's standing on quicksand.

Her memories of her mother are faded, the smell of violets, long dresses that swish, and the shimmering pearls around her neck. Webby isn't even sure if it's a real memory or something she made up.

The boys don't even have that.

She's seen how they look at the pictures, how Donald doesn't.

Sometimes Grammy will wrap them in soft blankets that smell of lavender and thyme, pull out the photo albums, and tell stories. Webby's never asked, but she's noticed the pattern, certain reoccurring dates, she has them marked on her calender. 

She wonders if Donald has ever done the same.

She's afraid to ask.

She doesn't have stories to tell. All she has is rumours and speculation, and they've had far too much of that. 

But she wants to wrap them up, make a safe place, and put on a sad movie so they can pretend it's the movie that's making them cry.

But the boys have other plans.

Dewey's eyes burn with determination, he's the driving force here. Huey is distant, worried, watching the doors and windows as if he's expecting someone to burst in on them. Louie is miserable and uncertain but quite willing to be drawn in Dewey's wake.

Then she hears the plan and bursts into laughter. "That old thing? You'll probably end up missing by a couple of centuries! Nah, you want the Phoenix Gate or…" she pauses dramatically "The Amulet of Kronos!"

Huey raises an eyebrow, "and I suppose you know where they are?"

Webby hums, and she can tell she has their full attention, "well, the Timedancer has the Phoenix Gate, good luck getting him to drop in. But!" She poses, "the Amulet is right upstairs."

"We have the coolest uncle ever." Louie exclaimed, his misery temporarily forgotten.

Webby laughs. She thought today was going to be boring. She loves having friends.

\---

Louie feels all jittery. He's hidden his phone down the back of a dusty old chair, he couldn't bear to look at it, but now he keeps reaching for it, keeps panicking when it's not in his pocket.

He knew today was going to be awful. He's trying to ignore it, but his thoughts keep circling back around to the same thought.

How could I be so stupid?

Webby's leading them to a part of the mansion they've not explored yet. 

Louie can't even summon up the energy to admire all the displays. Something glitters and catches his eye, but there's none of the expected want.

He stares at it anyway, wondering if it's real gold, and why anyone would make something so ugly.

He's never seen Uncle Donald so upset.

Huey nudges him out of his thoughts.

"Having second thoughts?" Huey asked. He kept his voice low, Louie can hear Dewey's and Webby's excited squeaks ahead of them.

"Isn't Uncle Donald enough?" Louie wonders. He feels weird, uneasy. 

The question makes Huey's screw up his face. "Maybe? I don't think it's wrong to want to know her. Definitely not wrong to want to save her."

"Found it!" Dewey yelled, causing his brothers to jump.

Huey's eyes light up, and Louie knows he's lost him.

They hurry over, just in time to see Webby pop open the case and Dewey seize the Amulet.

"How does it work?" Dewey asked, shaking it.

The eyes start to glow red.

"Dewey!" Huey and Louie yell, rushing forward and tackling their brother.

They fall to the floor in a tangle.

He's not there anymore.

"Dewey!?"


	4. A Mad Scientist appears

"What do we do? What do we do?"

"We lost Dewey!" 

"Uncle Donald!"

"No!"

___

Dewey stumbled backwards, almost falling.

He blinked in confusion, gone were the heavy curtains, murky atmosphere and dark wooden walls, instead there was silver chrome and bright buzzing lights.

"Huey? Louie? Webby?" He was alone. 

"Anybody?" His voice echoed, and he winced. 

He looked around the room, but apart from a few tables, chairs and a large white board, there was nothing.

He took a breath. Forced himself to some semblance of calm. He was alone, so what? He had been lost before. Uncle Donald always found him.

He pulled out his phone and stared at it in annoyance. No bars. "Why can't you ever work you stupid thing." Hitting it on the floor a few times for good measure and throwing it across the room.

He fell backwards, and stared at the flickering ceiling light. Zip. Zap. Zip zip zap.

"Think Dewey think, what would Uncle Scrooge do?" He snorted, "Make a dramatic pose and leap into action? Ramble on about some legendary treasure?" He rolled over and looked at the door.

"Uncle Donald…" He sighed, and rocketed back to his feet. The amulet bounced against his chest, and he tried to grab it. It slipped through his fingers.

"Wait. How does that work?" He ran his fingers over the cord around his neck, and the grey stone tablet. He could feel it there, but every time he tried to gasp it, it would slip through his fingers. "Weird." He commented. "Well at least I'm not going to lose you."

He tried the door, luckily it wasn't locked. He poked his head out into the corridor, looking both ways to see nothing but an endless hallway with doors that were ever so helpfully marked as 7.4, 7.13 and 7.5

He scooted along, glaring at the senseless numbers and wishing Huey was here. He at least might see a pattern.

"Where is everyone?" Dewey wondered, after looking in his third empty room.

Beep.

Dewey jumped at the sound.

Beep.

He spun around, hearing the approach of distant mumbling.

Beep.

Uh oh. Hide?

Beep.

Dewey darted in the nearest room, crawling under a table.

Beeep, beep.

"I'm not here, I'm not here…"

Beep beep beep!

"Ah!" He screamed.

"Ah!" The old duck jumped a mile, grabbing his chest and dropping the beeping device. "Ah ha! I found… Donald?"

Dewey stared in disbelief. "Uncle Ludwig?"

Ludwig adjusted his glasses and stared at Dewey. "You are not my Donald."

Dewey trembled, "Don't you remember me?" He wasn't going to cry, he wasn't. 

"Not yet dear Nephew, you have Chronon particles!" The professor declared, picking up the slightly battered silver box, which beeped as soon as Ludwig pointed it at Dewey.

Dewey crossed his eyes looking at the device. "Is that bad?"

"Yes! No! Well… we don't know yet. You are out of time!" Ludwig declared, waving his finger at Dewey.

"What! No! I'm too young to die!" Dewey jumped up, banging his head on the table.

Ludwig chuckled, "No, no, no. I mean you're jumped rivers, you've fallen down the wrong trouser leg, you wandered out of your time and landed where you shouldn't be."

Dewey blinked, rubbing his head. "You mean it worked? I really travelled in time?"

"Ah ha!" The old duck proclaimed, making Dewey jump. "You are wearing the Amulet of Kairos!"

Dewey glanced down, and rubbed the old amulet "Webby said it was the Amulet of Kronos."

"No no no no no! Kronos would hardly approve of you jumping out of time. But now I have a question, not mein Donald, Who are you being?"

"Dewey Duck. Donald is my uncle." Dewey explained.

"You mean you are one of Della's adorable little egglets?" Ludwig asked, knelling down so he was on Dewey's level and taking a close look. 

Dewey shifted uneasily from foot to foot. "I guess?" 

Ludwig grinned and shook his head, "Well you certainly look like a McDuck. Scrooge is going to be gloating."

Dewey tilted his head. "You said I look like Uncle Donald."

"And who does your Uncle Donald look like?" Ludwig asked. 

"Oh." Dewey frowned. "I didn't think of that."

Ludwig poked him in the chest. "Now my little kinder, what would you be doing here."

"Saving Mom?" Dewey offered, then clapped a hand over his beak. He hadn't meant to say that.

"Ha!" Ludwig exclaimed, "You are being here to change the future! So first, we must get you to your mutter, yes?"

"Yes?"

"You are being in luck!"

"Yes! I am going to save Mom!" Dewey proclaimed. "This is awesome!"

\---

"This is not awesome." Dewey declared, staring in horror at the disguise his uncle had found.

"It is the uniform of all junior adventurers!" Professor Von Drake declared. 

Dewey tugged on the heavily starched shirt, and the stiff waistcoat, glaring at the little strap of material he thought was maybe a tie. "It's too big."

"You'll grow into it!" Uncle Ludwig declared, pulling the shirt over Dewey's head.

Dewey squeaked as his head popped out, the long sleeves flapping about as he gestured "I don't think I have that much height in me!"

Ludwig tilted his head, "Hum… It may be a mite too large." He helped Dewey roll up the sleeves. "But that's the genius in my plan! No one will look twice at an adventurous intern in oversized clothes."

"Intern." Dewey echoed. "What's an intern?"

Ludwig hummed, straightening Dewey's shirt and wrapping the thin tie around Dewey's neck. "Think gofer." And tied a knot.

"Um…" Dewey crossed his eyes trying to see what Ludwig was doing.

"You will run about taking messages and paperwork from one office to another." Ludwig explained, patting the bowtie down and offering the waistcoat.

"But… Mom?"

"Trust the plan." Ludwig pulled a ID badge out, pinned it to Dewey's chest and patted him on the head. 

Dewey ducked his head and checked the badge. "Deuteronomy Drake? What kind of name is Deuteronomy?"

"My great great uncle was called Deuteronomy."

"I am not liking this plan." Dewey frowned. 

"It'll be good for you." Ludwig said as he straighten Dewey's clothes.

Dewey stared at him. Running the words through his head again. No, they really didn't make sense, he hadn't misheard. "But why?"

"Now remember if Scroogey doesn't call today…?" Ludwig asked.

"I'm to come down to your lab." Dewey pouted.

"I've told Mrs Spendthrift you're expected to help out when Scrooge calls for adventure, so she'll send you over to Donald before he leaves." Ludwig explained, again.

"I know!"

"Do I get a hug?" Ludwig asked, opening his arms.

Dewey hesitated only briefly before flinging himself at the old duck. "Thanks for everything Uncle Professor"

Ludwig smelled as he always did, of dusty feathers, smoke and peppermint. Dewey breathed it in gratefully. He wasn't entirely alone.

\---

"What do we do? What do we do?" Webby screamed, running circles around Huey and Louie.

"We have to tell Uncle Donald." Huey stated, trying to be calm and reasonable. While keeping a death grip on Louie's hoodie. 

"We can't tell Uncle Donald! He'll have mental breakdown!" Louie cried, his voice reaching a new pitch.

Webby stopped and grabbed Louie's hood, lifting and shaking the youngest. "Then we have to tell Scrooge!" She yelled.

"Maybe he's okay?" Louie tried..

Webby screamed, "Yes! He touched the Amulet of Kronos and disappeared in a flash of light! It's okay, it's time travel, it'll bring him right back" she stopped to grasp in a breath, and stared intently at the spot Dewey had vanished from. "Any moment now…"

"Webby… I don't think he's coming back." Huey said, his feathers drooping. 

"But he has to… "

"We need to tell Uncle Donald."

\----

It was a Saturday. Dewey now felt incredibly silly for panicking at all the empty offices.

Mrs Spendthrift had regarded Professor Von Drake with the same flat look Uncle Donald tended to give Uncle Scrooge whenever the older duck suggested something, before looking Dewey over.

"Couldn't you have at least found him clothes that fit Professor?" She asked.

"Er..." Uncle Ludwig coughed "no…?" He chuckled nervously, "But it's fine, the little kinder is good, aren't you Deuteronomy?"

"I hate that name." Dewey pouted, pulling his sleeve up again.

"Alright Mr Drake. Next time, I want you in clothes that fit. If you don't have anything suitable, come in Monday and we'll find something."

"Thank you!" Dewey exclaimed, hugging the stern older duck.

"Danke Mabel. You're a real lifesaver." Uncle Ludwig said, "Now be good nephew! I want to hear all about it when next I see you!" 

And Ludwig fled the scene.

Dewey laughed, "He's not good with kids, is he?" Stepping back to look at Mrs Spendthrift.

"That duck…" she shook her head, but smiled fondly. "For now…" she tapped her chin, "Ms Petrel always needs help. And I bet the Professor forgot to pack your lunch."

Dewey glanced down, and shuffled his feet, "I kinda didn't get breakfast either."

"Well, we had best get you down to Ms Petrel straight away. I just know she has some snacks hidden away in her desk." Mrs Spendthrift herded Dewey out of her office and down the stairs.

The room Dewey was ushered into, was an open office, there was easily two dozen desks, all with piles of papers and folders in various states of organisation. 

Only two of the desks had occupants, the messiest desk had a delicate looking black bird, with stripes of white down her arms, and a long pointed beak. Opposite her, was an marmalade cat, in a scruffy looking shirt and battered bowler hat.

"Lucy? Present for you." Mrs Spendthrift called.

"Just a minute." The seabird said, holding up a finger before looking over. "Present?"

The cat chuckled. "You got her a minion?"

Ms Petrel smiled, looking amused, "I'm a little young for a kid Bels."

"Our mad professor forgot to feed him. Could you look after him?" Mrs Spendthrift asked.

The storm petrel leapt off her stool, and made her way through the desks, proving to only being a head taller than Dewey. She glanced at his name badge and laughed. "Got a nickname Double Dee? I don't think I can wrap my tongue around that mouthful."

"I'm Dewey" Dewey shoved his hand out. His sleeve had rolled down again, leaving a lengthy stretch of fabric draping over his hand.

"Dewey." She grinned. "You can call me Lucy. I got a spare shirt that should fit you better than that monstrosity, if you'd like?"

"Sure." He glanced at her outfit, a shimmering violet puffy blouse, then back down at his sleeves. "It can't be worse, can it?" He looked up at Mrs Spendthrift.

"It can always get worse Mr Drake. But we'll see you through." She patted him on the head. "Send him back about three. I have some files I need taking over to the twins."

Lucy saluted. "Got it Bels. I'll keep him busy in the meantime."

Dewey tried not to sigh. Worse plan ever!

As the door closed behind Mrs Spendthrift, Lucy grinned at him. "Cheer up Mini Dew, we have double chocolate chip cookies"

Ok, maybe it wasn't so bad.

\---

This was bad. 

Louie tried to ignore the way his hoodie twisted in Huey's hand. Huey hadn't actually let go since Dewey vanished.

Uncle Donald was going to panic.

Webby was already panicking. She kept pacing back and forth between them and the way ahead, muttering to herself and somehow going twice their speed.

Huey was dragging Louie, and all Louie could think about was the look on Donald's face when he said Mom was gone.

This was going to be a thousand times worse.

Dewey was gone.

It didn't compute, it didn't make sense. Dewey couldn't be gone.

They could get him back, right?

There had to be some other magical dohickey, right?

Dewey couldn't be gone.

"Where's Dewey?" Louie jerked his head up at the question he had been dreading, a lie on the tip of his tongue.

"He's gone!" Webby wailed, "Dewey picked up the Amulet of Kronos and now he's lost in time!"

"What!?" The look on uncle Donald's face was worse than he had imagined.

\---

Dewey glanced at the directions again, an envelope tucked under his arm.

"I think I want to go right…?" He wondered, as he turned onto a dock.

"En guard!" A familiar voice yelled. There was a clang of metal, an excited yell. 

Dewey looked up and stared. "Uncle Donald?" He whispered, as a pair of ducks circled each other with swords drawn.

"Give up Don, you're not winning this one." 

"Mom!?" Dewey clutched the envelope.

The pair of ducks turned to him.

Dewey fainted.


	5. The Mom Question

The kids share an uncertain look.

Uncle Donald hasn't moved. Hasn't looked at them. Just. Stood there. Looking. At nothing.

"I think we broke him." Louie whispers.

\---

"The Spear of Selene! Don!" A woman screamed dramatically, 

"Ahh!" Dewey wakes with a scream, rolling out of the hammock and crashing into the cushions below.

"I know!" Donald yells, bouncing round in circles with Della.

Della giggles, "We found it, we found it!" She sings.

"You're a legend Del!" Donald grins, spinning her.

Dewey scrambled up, rubbing his eyes. "What?"

"Hey cuz!" Della pounced, picking him up and spinning him around. "You're awake!" She hugged him to her chest, then plonked him back down again.

Dewey inched back, only to bump into Donald.

Donald chuckled, and put a hand on his shoulder, bending down to whisper, "she hasn't slept much."

Dewey looks back at his Mom. She's his Mom. There's a lump in his throat.

She's dangling Huey upside down.

What!?

Dewey rushes over, she's going to drop him! But Huey is laughing as Della swings him right side up.

"Um… hi?" He waves, Della is giving him an amused look. Huey waves back.

"Want to hold him?" Della asked, and Dewey barely holds out his hands before his brother, his brother's a baby! is dropped in his arms.

"That one is…" Della paused. She glanced down into the crib. "Louie is in green... "

Dewey stared frozen at the bundle of fluff in his arms, barely daring to breath. Huey stares back. The smile is gone, and Huey is clearly trying to decide whether he likes this new situation.

"Huey Del. You dressed Huebert in red, blue for Dewford, green for Louis." Donald recited, he's grinning as he leans against the wall.

"Hi?" Dewey mouths, and Huey gives him a mournful look and pats him on the chest.

"Right!" Della spins back around, and Dewey takes a step back, cradling the tiny duckling to his chest. She points, "That's Huey. Huey, this is…"

"Dewey?" Dewey fills in when Della swirls her hand in a come on motion.

"Nope!" Della declares, "one Dewey limit! We already have a Dewey."

"Della." Donald raises an eyebrow at her.

Della glanced over to her brother, "Donald." She echoes in the same tone of voice, and gestured wildly "What are we meant to yell when he falls into the sea again? Can't yell Dewey or we'll be looking for a hatchling to rescue instead of a cousin."

Dewey laughed, and she grinned down at him. "So cuz, what are we calling you?"

Dewey shrugged, and rested his chin against the soft down feathers on Huey's head. "I've always been Dewey."

"With a name like yours, I'm not surprised." Donald commented.

Della put her hand under her chin and leaned forward. Dewey leaned back, bumping against the wall. 'Hmm' she vocalised loudly. "Main character trait?"

"I'm impulsive?" Dewey tried to inch sideways.

"Imp!" Della yelled, bouncing backwards and twirling. "Don, this is now Imp."

"Della." Donald rolled his eyes, "If you don't like it, she'll probably forget." He mock glares at Della, "When she gets some SLEEP!"

"Sleep? Sleep? What is that? I think I remember a vague period of rest… maybe Wednesday?" Della stares off into space, counting off her fingers, "Or was it Thursday?"

Dewey giggles. "I like it." He decides, his Mom gave him a nickname. Everything is soft and fluffy. Mom's like him. He's like Mom.

She's utterly terrifying, and amazing, and…

His chest hurts. He wants to cry.

Donald slips over to sit beside him, a warm arm slung around his shoulders and he's pulled into a hug.

"My mom…" he whispers, and he doesn't know if Donald hears him. He doesn't know if he cares.

Donald sighs, and runs his fingers through Dewey's feathers, straightening them as he goes. Huey gets lifted away, but the little duckling leans over to wipe at Dewey's tears.

"So, we're off to South America. Do you have your passport?" Donald asks.

Dewey shakes his head. 

"I'm going to get my plane ready. Sorry Imp, maybe next time, we can't exactly sneak you across the border." Della declares, "It's not like there's a hidden nook perfectly sized to hold a kid or two." She winks, and swings herself out the boat 

Dewey sneaks a look at Donald, more than a little confused. 

"I think we should eat. How do you feel about a pasta bake?" Donald nudged him.

"Like I could eat it all?" Dewey offered.

Donald laughed, and hauled him up. "Let's put the fluff balls in the pen so they can watch, and we'll make supper."

\---  
Uncle Donald suddenly fell to his knees, digging his fingers into the carpet. It's sticky and slimy. He's sinking. He's drowning. "What. Happened." He still can't look at them. He can't see them. There's the heavy scent of rot, it's too humid out here.

The kids start talking all at once, and he can't understand, it's just noise. He can barely hear them over the rushing of the river. A rising cascade of sound.

Donald swiped his hand across, cutting them off. Della's gone. Imp's gone. He's all that's left.

No. He's not there. He's not. He has to be here. For them. The river dulls to a distant roar. There's carpet under his hands, not mud.

Dewey needs him.

"Huey. Explain. Now."

\---

"So there we were, surrounded by Beagle boys, crammed between two shipping crates, Ma Beagle getting closer and closer, and you know what Scrooge says?"

Dewey leaned forward, balancing on the edge of his seat. "No?"

"I'm sorry lass, I should never have insulted your cooking!" Donald posed dramatically with the pepper shaker. "He pulls out one of Della's rock cakes, and threw it at Ma Beagle. Bang!" Donald slammed down the pepper shaker.

"Really?" Dewey said, standing on his chair and staring up at Donald, wide eyed and tail wagging.

"Down that old hag went, we come storming out…"

The door opened, "Sounds like you're having fun Don." Della said as she let herself in.

Donald blushed, and rubbed the back of his head, "Well..."

"Having fun Imp?" She asked, much calmer than before.

"You are both amazing!" Dewey said, welding the table cutlery in imitation of a sword fight.

Della laughed as she brushed past the baby pen, glancing down at the three young ducklings "I see Don has been telling you some tall tales."

"Not that tall." Donald said, "And I see someone took a nap."

"Yep. I'm all ready to fly when you are."

"After dinner please." Donald said, poking his fork at Dewey, "And remember Imp. There's a lose panel behind the wing. Leads straight to a crawl space."

Dewey blinked. Glancing between the two as they shared knowing looks.

Wait. No. Uncle Donald wouldn't...

\---  
"Get in the car." Uncle Donald ordered. He's shaking and Huey really doesn't think he should be driving.

"But uncle Donald." Huey started, he can't let his uncle do this. He's already lost one brother.

"In. The. Car." Huey flinched and looked to Louie.

Louie is wide eyed, and staring at Uncle Donald. Webby whimpered, and no Huey isn't going to let his uncle do something crazy.

"Donald. You are not driving." Mrs Beakley said, emerging from the shadows. Huey sighs in relief. Backup! They're saved!

"I'm going to kill him." Donald growled. 

Huey can't stop the small noise of protest, any more than he can let go of Louie.

"Fine. After we get Master Dewey back."

Donald nodded sharply, and tossed the keys at Beakley. 

Huey gulps. 

\---

Dewey was humming under his breathe, half dancing, half sneaking to the tune of his theme music.

Donald and Della had made some very obvious noises about getting the ducklings settled and strapped in before take off.

Time aplenty to sneak aboard. 

"Behind the wing, behind the wing…" There was only one side easily accessible on the plane, right next to the dock between Donald's houseboat, and Della's seaplane. He tapped the panels, one by one. And was completely floored when one battered panel popped open. 

Wait. Seriously? He glanced back at the loading ramp, where Donald was innocently whistling and rocking one of the ducklings, pacing back and forth while he waited for Della.

"My family is awesome!" He declared, and crawled inside the plane, shutting the panel behind him. There was enough light coming through the grate that he could see a catch and lock on the inside of the panel. "And they've done this before?" 

He locked the panel in place, and wiggled along the crawl space, until he came to a ladder. Curious, because had they seriously planned this? Dewey climbed the ladder, and found a little cubby hole, softly padded and lined with blankets and pillows, just the right size for a mid sized adult.

Dewey tilted his head, "They have definitely done this before." As he crawled in and made himself comfortable. It was warm and cozy, smelling ever so familiar. He wondered who had used it last.

He was half asleep when he heard a knocking. "I hope everyone is strapped in." Donald's voice came through loud and clear.

"Oh. Right." Dewey muttered, feeling around for something like a seatbelt, and clicking it in place. "Aye aye captain!"

He heard Donald laugh, "All set Aviator!"

"It looks like clear skies ahead Sailor!" Della responded as she started the engine.

Dewey drifted off, warm and safe. He smiled, his family was so cool.

\---

"Either Scrooge comes out here, or we go in." Donald growled, slamming his hands on the receptionist's desk.

"I'm sorry Mr Duck, but I can't…"

Scrooge stormed through the door. Donald had no right to start terrorising his employees.

"Donald?" He snapped, "I don't know what you think you're doing…"

"Dewey's gone." Donald snapped back.

No. No. He couldn't. He wouldn't.

Scrooge firmed his stance, automatically preparing to dodge a blow. "He ran away? What happened?"

Donald folded his arms, "It's your fault. If you hadn't left cursed treasures in your mansion…!"

No. No he checked everything. It was all under lock and key. His home was safe. He made it safe for them.

"Cursed? What did he touch!" 

"The Amulet of Kronos, Mr McDuck." Webby said, sandwiched between Huey and Louie. The boys were both glaring at Scrooge.

It was Della all over again. Donald had that exact same look.

"There's no such… thing…" Scrooge trailed off. "Ugly stone tablet? Blue glowing eyes?"

"They were red." Huey said.

A memory flashed in front of his eyes. An impossible dream. An impossible future. But, maybe…?

"I thought it was used up…" Scrooge said, "I suppose… maybe it needed time to recharge?"

Donald came back to him, even after everything. Maybe it wasn't an impossible future.

"Where's Dewey?" Donald snapped his fingers in front of Scrooge's eyes. Scrooge flinched, refocusing on Donald.

"He's in the past. Somewhere. No. Somewhen."

Scrooge paused, letting his determination seize him. "And I know how to find him."


	6. Sky Pirates

It was a motley crew that invaded the Research Labs, and Scrooge McDuck was leading the pack.

"Gryo!" Scrooge shouted, keen eyes narrowing as he looked around and didn't spy his head of Research. Instead they landed on a very different bird.

"Fenton."

Fenton had frozen at Scrooge's entrance, but suddenly threw himself forward. Scrooge braced himself, knowing the kids were just behind him.

"Hi Mr McDuck!" Fenton greeted him loudly with a hug. Scrooge counted to five, before trying to extract himself. This time, Fenton didn't get the hint, and Scrooge sighed when the taller man leaned over his head to peer at his nephews and niece.

"Mr McDuck?" Fenton whispers loudly. "I think you're being followed.

"Fenton, these are my nephews Donald, Huey, Louie and my niece Webby." 

"Oh!" Fenton jumped back, bouncing his way over to shake Donald's hand. "I didn't realise it was bring your family to work day, Ma will be so disappointed."

"It's not." Donald said, but Fenton was already circling the kids.

"You must be triplets! Is it cool having a sibling? I always wanted a brother, but Ma said no, and Gyro said no cloning in his lab…"

"We're missing one actually." Donald tried to interrupt.

"Quadruplets! Even better." Fenton proclaimed.

"FENTON! Where's Gyro?" Scrooge demanded.

Fenton jumped, whirling to face Scrooge. "Gyro? I think he stepped out…" Fenton answered, tugging at his tie.

Louie snorted "He lies worse than you two." He told Huey and Webby.

Webby eyes darted about as she tapped her fingers together. Huey glared at Louie then gave Fenton a considering look. "He's lying?"

Scrooge rubbed his head. "Fenton, I need you help."

"My help?" Fenton clasped his hands together, "Oh, Mr McDuck! I always hoped this day would come!" Then he saluted, and his voice deepened "Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera reporting for duty! Ready and willing to help!"

"Good lad"

"Wait! Is it your nephew? I can run a scan of the building! We'll find him in no time sir!" Fenton dashed off deeper into the labyrinth of labs.

"FENTON!" Scrooge yelled after him, but the energetic duck had vanished. Scrooge sighed. "Donald, I need you to go track down your uncle Ludwig. He didn't sign out last night, so he might still be in the building." 

"Right." Donald nodded, giving the kids a quick hug. "Be good, be smart, trust your instincts. Time travel is tricky."

"Right. I should go chase after my galoot. Kids, I need you to find Gyro. Tell him I expected to see see him five minutes ago, so he better get his time machine up and running." 

The kids shared hopeful looks. "You can count on us." Huey said.

"For Dewey." Webby nodded sharply.

"And I know where to start looking!" Louie declared.

 

\---

This was not the adventure he expected.

"Here comes the aeroplane!" Dewey crooned, waving around the spoon.

Donald and his baby brothers were laughing at him.

Baby Dewey was having none of it. His beak remained firmly shut.

"Come on Dewey, you know and I know you like…" Dewey stared at the jar in his hand, and tried not to pull a face. "Butternut squash and carrots." Dewey waved the spoon above the fluff ball's beak.

Baby Dewey headbutted it, and the spoon went flying. He laughed. A delighted baby giggle of evilness.

Dewey groaned, and wiped a glob of sticky baby food out of his hair. "Why is this so hard?" He asked, flinging himself backwards onto the sand.

"Giving up?" Donald asked, and Dewey rolled over, glaring at his younger self. The younger Dewey was trying to wiggle his way off the picnic blanket.

"Why won't he eat?" Dewey finally asked. Donald was having no such problems feeding Huey or Louie. At least, not that Dewey had noticed.

"He wants to play." Donald explained. "And you make funny faces. Don't eat the sand." Donald jabbed one of the spoons, somehow catching what baby Dewey was up even when he wasn't looking.

Dewey pounced, scooping up his younger self, and holding his hands as the sand dribbled away. Younger Dewey whined and fussed. 

"Okay, no eating sand. If you're that hungry you can eat the carrot monstrosity." Dewey told his younger self, waving his finger back and forth. 

Louie started to babble, and younger Dewey twisted and wiggled in his arms.

"Uncle Donald!" Dewey cried, "help?"

"Uncle…?" 

Dewey spares a look at Donald, who's looked beyond surprised. Dewey doesn't drop his younger self, but it's a close thing, and he's careful to block the edge of the blanket with his body this time.

"Um… sorry?" Dewey offers, there's a cold lump in his stomach, and his eyes are burning again. Did he ruin things already?

There's a weak smile on Donald's face. 

"You made me feel rather old." Donald laughed, a dry sort of chuckle, and Dewey finds himself twisting the edge of the blanket under his fingers.

"Imp?"

"I'm sorry." Dewey whispered. He's not going to cry. His eyes are burning, there's a lump in his throat, he doesn't know why he cares. (Uncle Donald doesn't want him)

An alarm blared.

"Pirates!" Della screamed. Rolling out of her hammock and ready for action.

"It's not pirates!" Donald yelled over the alarm.

Della hit the alarm clock and pointed to the sky. 

Donald and Dewey turned to look.

"Oh phooey." 

\---

"So where do we start looking?" Webby asked, eyeing the lab with curiosity.

"This way." Louie said, heading straight to the wall Fenton had been leaning against when they entered. "Huey? Do you see anything strange?" Glancing sideways as Huey still hadn't let go his hoodie. It was starting to irritate.

Huey hummed, and leaned on Louie as he examined the wall. He reached out to knock on it.

"It's a fake wall?" Webby exclaimed! Running up and pressing her head against it. "I can hear banging!" Webby dashed back to the boys. "It's a secret room!" 

Huey smiled back at her, but the smile worried Louie. It wasn't one of Huey's, it looked like uncle Donald's.

"Dewey's fine." Louie found himself saying. "He's having an adventure without us. He's never going to let us live this down."

Huey's smile softened, like uncle Donald's did sometimes. "You're right. He'll be back raving about sky pirates, and treasure, and how they never would have gotten anywhere without him."

Huey let go. Rubbing his hands like they ached. His eyes scanning the wall, and grinned. "Why is there a pair of swords on the wall?" He pointed.

"Beagles?" Louie asked.

"We're in the research labs." Webby said, sharing a grin with Huey.

\---  
"It's the Prometheus." Della said, handing the binoculars over to Donald.

"Who's that?" Dewey asked, sandwiched between the two of them, and half hidden in the sand dune they had taken cover behind.

"Sky pirates." Donald said, "Looks like they're flying past us."

"The Bander-log" Della spat the name as if it was a curse. "Worse sort of luck. That's their carrier ship, there's a dozen or so smaller aircraft they use to harry other planes."

"Will they see us?" Dewey asked.

Donald looked to Della. Della was tapping her fingers on the sand, eyes darting about.

"No, but we have a problem. If we fly now, they'll spot us. I'm not risking the kind of dare devil flying we'ld need with the midgets aboard. If we fly later, they are going to spot us going over their hidey hole. If we hold as long as I'ld like, uncle Scrooge is probably going to end up in more trouble than he's in already."

"You have a plan." Donald said, with a daring grin.

Dewey looked up at his uncle, the expression looked hauntingly familiar, but he's never seen it on Donald's face.

"It's a stupid plan." Della objected, and Dewey's almost shivers as a chill ran down his back.

"A stupid plan is better than no plan." Donald recited, adjusting his cap.

They sound so familiar.

"We lure them down, then ground them."

A wave of homesickness washes over Dewey.

"What about their other planes?" Dewey asked.

"Fast, but if we get a minute or two head start, and point the Prometheus in the wrong direction they don't have the range to catch the Spirit." Della glares at the far off aircraft carrier.

"But they'll be crazy to send the Prometheus down if they have other planes." Donald commented. 

"…not if they think they're picking up the Spirit" 

\---  
"Hey Captain! Downed bird to starboard!" Nameless mook number 3 shouted through the comms.

One day, Louie thought, he was going to nametag all his crew. 

"What kind of bird?" Louie asked, cautious with his expectations. It was rare for anything interesting to fly this route.

"Unknown Cap. Pretty little seaplane, not seen her type before. Engine's blown, but looks like the pilot is getting it back under control."

"I'm coming up." Louie decided. It was probably nothing, and he could jibe with the mook for not recognising a simple supply plane.

His crew scurried out of his way, and he regarded them with a possessive glint. They might not be the most dangerous pirates in the skies, but numbers were a quality all it own.

Nameless mook number 3 leapt to his feet when Louie entered the crow's nest, wordlessly offering the spyglass, it trembled in his hands.

Louie took it, and strode over to the windows. It took him only a moment to spot the line of smoke, and he followed it down to the plane.

His breathe caught. "The Spirit of Adventure! Oh Del bird, looks like your luck finally ran out." He crackled. "Treasure ahoy!"

___

Della watched the Prometheus as it limped into view, her sword clenched in her hand and standing on the wing of her plane. Her boys were safely hidden, she was the bait.

Three small fighters took to the skies, and Della marked their flight patterns for later. She was betting they had orders not to harm the Spirit.

Her blood was singing in her ears, her heart pounding like she had just done a triple loop through the spires, as the Prometheus hovered beside the island, a heavy ramp dropping with a clang.

She grinned.

A flood of men descended, a mix of monkeys, bears and wolves. They eyed her with wild grins, teeth bared, and vicious laughter as they spread out in a wide circle.

She raised her sword. "Bander-log!" She snarled.

"Della Duck!" A deep voice yelled out, and the sea parted to reveal their Captain. 

"Louie." Della's eyes narrowed, but she relaxed her stance. "And here I thought you were going to give up being a pirate, and settle down."

Louie chuckled, "And give up the sky?"

Her eyes flickered right, catching a flash of blue near the ramp. She braced her sword against the wing and leaned forward. "What? Your girl left you again?"

There it was. The quickening breathes, the clenched fists.

Then Louie smiled. "Last I heard, the great Della Duck was brooding a clutch. What happened Del Girl? The little ducks all go bye bye?"

Her vision went white. She screamed. She was going to kill him!

\---

A scream of pure rage filtered up to the engine room. "Oh no." Donald said, snapping another wire.

Dewey looked towards the sound despite not being able to see a thing. "Is she okay?"

"Lost her temper." Donald said. He hesitated as other noises filtered through the hull. "We should go help her out. Think you've finished up here?"

Dewey jammed a rod through a whirling fan. "Aye aye Captain!"

Donald ruffled his hair. "Good lad."

\---

Forty men verses one rather short duck. 

Louie wanted to facepalm. The duck was winning.

"Spread out men! Surround her!" He ordered.

Nameless mook number 5 came scrambling to his side. "Captain! Look what I found!" And held out a duckling.

It was rubbing it's eyes, and seemed rather undeserved by the sound of screaming, and flesh hitting fists.

Louie took it from the mook. It was fuzzy soft in his arms. Baby duck. 

"Kinda cute, for a duck." The mook crooned.

Louie held it up out of reach. "Del bird! We have your…" he paused. Held it closer to his eyes. The baby giggled and tried to grab his nose. "Daughter?" He decided, the baby was too cute to be a boy.

"Louie!" Shouted an unfortunate voice, and Louie turned automatically at his name. There was another duck standing on the ramp. "Put him down you dirty pirate!"

Louie glanced at the duckling again. "I don't think your Daddy is happy with me." He chuckled.

"Uncle!" The duck with an unfortunate voice yelled. "And he you don't put down Louie right this instant…" the duck rolled up his sleeves, stalking down the ramp.

"Wait." Louie said, wondering if he had misheard. "The duckling is called Louie?"

The fight with Della paused, she was standing on the chest of a wolf twice her size, a dozen mooks lay groaning on the ground.

"His name is Louis." Della growled, her eyes locked onto the duckling.

Louie felt his heart dissolve into goo. "You named your son after me?"

The strange duck started to laugh.

Della's gaze flickered to him for a moment, then all her attention was back.on Louie and Louie. She smiled, and started to approach. "Well, you are my biggest rival for the skies." She purred.

Louie glanced down at his namesake. "He's the cutest thing ever. I'm claiming godfather." The duckling laughed, and Della lifted him out of Louie's arms.

"Who's mommy's little terror?" She asked, tucking the duckling against her side, and combing her fingers through his hair.

She looked back up at Louie. "So…"

Louie glanced at the pile of mooks on the sand. The others had fled deeper inland. He was sure he had heard the sound of sprung traps and screams.

"Truce?" He offered, extending his hand.

"Truce." She agreed, shaking his hand, and whistled.

Louie winced when he saw another small duck exit the Prometheus. "You've sabotaged my engine, haven't you?

Della grinned, "Alls fair in love and war Godfather. I have ducklings to protect." She waved.

Louie sighed. As the Spirit rose into the air, he could hear the crackling of his carrier. It crashed into the water, a wave of water soaking Louie and his mooks.

"Damn you Della, you got me good this time."

\---


	7. Lost

There's a storm on the edges of Donald's mind, he can't think, he can't feel, or he's going to be swept away. He's terrified of being swept away. 

Dewey can't afford it.

He holds himself stiffly, there's a dead zone in his mind, the eye of the storm. He has to hold it, he has to maintain it.

It's exhausting. He can't keep this up.

Scrooge gave him a task, something to focus on, and Donald's grateful. 

He is. 

He thinks he is.

Uncle Scrooge is helping.

Why didn't he help before?

The storm threatens to break him.

No. He won't. 

Uncle Ludwig. 

Find the Professor. 

Uncle Scrooge is helping now. That's all that matters.

The labs are quiet. No one is working down here. 

Donald doesn't know what he'll do if he runs into anyone.

Donald finds him. It's not what he expects. Ludwig is always so energetic, a little scattered, always trying to bring everything in his mind into reality.

Instead, Ludwig is sitting on a stool, he's staring at a monitor, lines of calculations running down the screen. There's a photo propped up by the monitor, and Ludwig keeps glancing at it.

He's not noticed Donald.

There's something wrong with this picture.

Donald can't find his voice. Everything is wrong. The air is too heavy. He can't breathe.

Donald can't understand the calculations, they're too complex, endless lines of numbers and symbols blurring together as they rapidly ascend up the screen. His eyes are drawn to the photo. 

Imp.

The pain is a sharp ice pick to his heart. He doesn't, he can't think about Imp now.

But the memory is too close to the surface. Those eyes…

"Professor?" Donald's voice shakes. 

His uncle spins around on his chair so fast it threatens to fall. Donald grabs for it, only to end up face to face to Ludwig. The older duck looks haunted for a moment.

Then he smiles. "Donald! Mein nephew! I was just thinking of you. Do you know there's been a time anomaly nearby? I was just tracking it down."

"Try McDuck manor." Donald can't help but be cold. He can't feel the relief he knows should be there. 

"Die Kinder?" 

"Dewey's gone." 

The Professor closed his eyes. He's stiller than Donald's ever seen. But he's seen this before. He let go of the chair and steps back, expecting an explosion of rage.

He knew Ludwig cared for the boys, but his Uncle has always been distant towards them. So different from the uncle he grew up knowing. 

He doesn't think the boys noticed. He's their crazy, scientist uncle, they love him. He's fun. 

But he doesn't let them close. He never speaks of his family to them. The stories of his childhood and his sweethearts, of his life? The boys don't know them, have never heard them. 

"Deuteronomy." Ludwig sighed. Slumping into his chair. "I'm an old Dummkopf."

Donald twists his hands together. He doesn't know what to do. 

"I'm sorry." His heart is skipping, the room has gotten dark, he failed, he can smell damp rot, he lost them. He doesn't deserve to be forgiven.

Gone. 

____

Dewey leaned over the arm of his seat, letting baby Louie grab his finger. 

He was fine. Happy. His Mom was awesome.

That fight had been something else. Like Uncle Donald when he lost his temper. No one else had stood a chance.

Dewey's eyes shifted to check on Huey and Dewey. They were fine. Huey was waving his toy bear, it was a cheerful red, with a sad expression. 

Why did he feel weird?

Louie tugged on his finger and Dewey pulled a face at him. Louie smiled, it was already starting to look like his familiar sneaky grin. 

Uncle Donald would have blown a gasket if they were in danger. 

Louie was fine. Smiling, laughing. Not harmed at all. Not a single feather out of place. Dewey had checked, much to his brother's amusement.

The Ape had gotten off scott free. Barely a mark on him. Nothing compared to the beating he had watched Della dish out on those other guys.

Dewey looked towards the pilot's chair, not able to see his Mom from his seat, but Donald was there, leaning against the co-pilot's chair.

They were still laughing. Still joking.

Didn't they care? 

\---  
The secret door opened without a sound, so quietly in fact that they didn't notice at first. 

The opening recessed into a corner, and hidden behind a large claw like machine.

The banging became louder.

Webby flipped on her night vision goggles, and put a finger to her beak. She rolled through the door, and struck a combat pose.

Huey and Louie shared a look. Louie shrugged. Huey rubbed his head.

They followed.

The secret room was set up like a mad scientist's lab. There were the scattered remains of projects, some half finished, some appearing broken with torn steel and smoke marks, while one large robot was chained to the ground. 

The kids wandered through the maze of machinery. The thumping noise had stopped, it was eerily quiet.

"This is worst than Uncle Ludwig's lab." Louie whispered to Huey.

"No it's not!" A voice yelled, making the kids jump. Webby dived forward, weaving her way through the maze.

"Is that?" Huey asked.

"Gyro." Louie declared, pulling his brother along.

"Found him!" Webby yelled. "A little help guys?"

"Oh no…" Gyro sighed.

The inventor was tied up on the floor, someone had used ducktape to attach him to his chair, and it had toppled over. Webby stood on the backrest, threatening to tip it over again.

"Webby… please tell me you didn't capture Mr Gearloose." Huey asked.

Webby laughed, "Nah, I found him let this. Do you think there's Beagles boys? Or maybe Emil Eagle? Out to steal another invention?"

"Or Fenton the intern, practicing capturing evil doers." Gyro said flatly.

"Fenton's evil!?" Webby gasped.

"That's not what he said Webby." Louie circled Gyro, holding up Huey's phone. "How did he catch you?"

"Does it matter? Cut me free!" Gyro demanded, straining against the ducktape.

"Or…" Huey tilted his head and grinned, "we could just wheel you over to Uncle Scrooge."

Gyro slumped. "Alright, what do you want?"

____

Itacoatiara was bustling, Dewey had figured it would be a small town, somehow bustling city on the banks of the Amazon hadn't featured in his imagination. There were dozens of small pleasure craft racing up and down the river, taking advantage of the clear weather and not quite tidal waves.

Della had stayed with the plane, while Donald sought out Uncle Scrooge. Dewey had made to follow Donald, but quickly slipped away in the crowds.

The sounds of Spanish and Portuguese filled the air, alongside many tongues that were unfamiliar to Dewey. He kept listening for some familiar English, but if anyone spoke it, they wasn't using it.

There was a trope of tourists dressed for rock climbing, Dewey attached himself to the tail end of the group, nodding at a tall goose. The goose shook her head, but smiled at him, so he figured she was going to start a fuss.

The tour guide at the front of the party was speaking German, so Dewey tuned him out.

Why hadn't uncle Donald noticed? 

Uncle Donald always noticed. Normally they had to work much harder for even a chance at slipping something past uncle Donald.

Dewey reached for his phone. "I'm an idiot." He face palmed. His phone was laying on the floor of an empty office back in Duckberg.

No phone. No GPS. No uncle Donald.

"I think this is the most lost I've ever been." He tapped his foot, trying not to attract attention. 

The group turned a corner, the street sloping down towards the harbour. They headed up. 

Dewey scanned the river, hoping to spot the Spirit of Adventure. Instead, his eyes land on a golden flag, the American dollar sign outlined in bold lines.

Dewey snapped his fingers, "That has to be uncle Scrooge's boat."


	8. Chapter 8

As Dewey approached the docks, glancing up every few moments to make sure that the flag was still there, his feet slowed.

  
The boat was a lot bigger than he expected, more the size of a ferry or large pleasure yacth, and there was a pair of goons standing guard.

But it had to be Uncle Scrooge's boat, who else would fly a dollar sign flag, have gold detailing all along the ship, and green tartan carpets?

The tall goon was sharpening his claws on a knife and snarled when one of the sailors came too close.

The sailor growled back as Dewy ducked behind a pile of discarded pallets.

The other goon, short and built like a wall, lifted an eyebrow and the sailor huffed before heading on his way.

Dewey sank down to the floor as he considered his options. 

Maybe he should… he shook off the thought, he wasn't going back, only forward.  
It wasn't like they would notice he's gone.

A truck with various sacks and barrels tumbled past Dewey's hidy space, and an impulsive idea occurred to the duckling.

He scrambled up the pallets, crouching as the truck stalled in a pothole. Dewey jumped, landing on a sack of potatoes and pulling it over him. 

He laughed breathlessly, and hummed under his breath. Now as long as they didn't check too closely…

The truck reversed and turned, making a large circle around the pothole. And kept going.

And going…

Dewey shifted the sacks so he look out, heart sinking as he realised. The truck wasn't boarding the boat.

His head thudded as he collapsed backwards. Where was Huey, or Louie? Why couldn't they be here with him? It was so much easier with his brothers.  
He wiggled out from between the sacks, prepared to jump off and try again.

The truck stopped.

Dewey looked up, (and up and up) into a pair of dark eyes half hidden under a wide brimmed hat.

"Umm… hi?" Dewey gave a half hearted wave.

"My darling Moonflower, did we order an American kit with our supplies?" 

"Of course not Pumpkin, what mischief are you into now?"

A second fox joined the first, this one a pale amber to the other's red complexion, her hair tied back with a bandana.

"I believe we may have a stow-a-away!" Pumpkin declared, his tail switching with excitement.

"Nooo…" Dewey scouted backwards, "I wasn't trying to get on your boat, I wanted…" Dewey hesitated, "I heard Mr McDuck was going on an adventure" He whispered dramatically, hoping he had found a kindred spirit in Pumpkin by the gleam in his eyes.

"A McDuck Adventure!" The foxes exclaimed, sharing a look.  
Dewey grinned and nodded, "I was trying to stow aboard his boat," He blushed, and ducked his head, "I thought these were his supplies"

Moonflower tapped her chin, and hummed. "Well I had heard there was an infamous millionaire holding a party tonight, but no one mentioned Scrooge McDuck."

"I heard it was a terribly crass affair, but you know how the Lieutenant feels about those Scottish barbarians my dear." Pumpkin tutted.

"And Bridget would turn her nose up at anything that smelt of new money, living in the past the poor lamb."

The pair shook their heads and sighed, before Moonflower snapped her fingers "I bet you the Vanderquacks have an invite."

Pumpkin clasped her hands, "Oh that's just brilliant darling, you have the best of ideas! Let's call upon them immediately!" He started to dot little kisses on her hands and up her arms as Moonflower giggled.

Dewey groaned and hid his head in his hands, mind bedazzled from the rapid fire conversation, and dismayed at the display of affection, so intent on each other the pair seemed to have forgotten all about him.

He slipped off the truck, counting on their distraction to make his escape, only for the woman to place a hand on his head.

"Pumpkin, my love, first we adventure, then we celebrate." She smiled warmly at her husband.


End file.
